


better than before

by wewriteletters



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nausea, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Vomiting, im so sorry about the description i haven't slept, weight loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29667960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewriteletters/pseuds/wewriteletters
Summary: After a particularly bad day at the precinct, the team is worried about whether or not Malcolm is taking care of himself.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	better than before

**Author's Note:**

> Made for the tumblr prompt: [here](https://malclombright.tumblr.com/post/640628243808010240/trigger-warning-ed-i-notice-how-malcolm-seems-to). Yes I hate the title too. Please listen to the tags! Idk why I'm starting another multi-chapter fic, but here we are.

Malcolm looked in the mirror, gazing at himself uncomfortably. His belt was almost no long enough to keep his pants from sagging around his waist. He sighed, realizing he would have to buy new suits yet again. 

People had started to notice his weight loss. JT made a joke about his jacket falling off him and Dani kept trying to get him to eat some of her lunch. Gil was even more obvious about his concern. Luckily, his mother and sister hadn’t said anything yet, but that didn’t mean they were unaware of what was happening. 

Malcolm stepped away from the mirror and walked from his closet to the kitchen. Sunshine was chirping from her cage. He went to make himself a cup of coffee when he realized he probably should at least try and eat breakfast. Malcolm couldn’t remember the last time he ate. It was probably at his mother’s brunch over the weekend, and even then he only managed to get down a piece of toast and some scrambled eggs. 

Unfortunately, his refrigerator and cupboards proved useless. Both were empty. Even his licorice jar, which he always tried to keep replenished, was down to just a few. 

Well, at least now he had an excuse to skip breakfast. Malcolm went back to making his coffee, ignoring how difficult it was to keep himself upright and focused. He’d just blame that on the lack of sleep. His right hand was shaking as it poured the coffee into the cup, but that was normal, he reassured himself. The stomach cramps were a bit harder to ignore. Malcolm’s stomach had been doing flips all morning, begging him to eat something with more nutritional value than a lollipop, but the thought of eating anything just made his stomach ache more. There was no way to satisfy himself, so Malcolm just figured he’d ignore it all together. 

Like most things in his life, his problems with eating seemed to start after his father’s arrest. He’d always had some issues with food textures, but they never made him physically ill and it was easy to just eat the same rotation of meals his family chef prepared. But when his father left, he withdrew more into himself, not speaking, not sleeping, and not eating. He soon became underweight for his age and his mother had dragged him to specialist after specialist trying to help him. They all recommended making eating meals as a family a priority and using positive reinforcement when Malcolm did eat, but with Martin gone, family dinners were just a harsh reminder of the life they’d lost and his mother had never been one to heap praise on her children. Plus, Malcolm wasn’t even talking, let alone offering to work with anyone to deal with his issues. 

Gil helped a lot. Malcolm always felt less pressure at meal time when he was over at his house, especially when Jackie came into the picture. Gil noticed how excited Malcolm always got when he finished therapy and got to take a lollipop, so he started bringing candy over for Malcolm to snack on. Jessica wasn’t a fan, but figured it was better than her son eating nothing. 

The doctors Malcolm saw never seemed to fully understand what his problem with eating was. They tried to pin it on body image issues, but it was never about weight or a fear of being fat. Malcolm didn’t care about those things. The only way he could describe it was that there was a pit in his stomach that never went away, and trying to fill it with food just made him anxious and ill. He ate enough to prevent hospitalization or more intensive treatments, but meal time always brought added stress and, his mother’s gaze, making sure he finished every bite, certainly did nothing to help. 

It was easier to avoid when he was alone. Everyone else in college lived off coffee and energy drinks anyway, so no one batted an eye when Malcolm drank most of his meals. In the FBI, he was hardly at home so he could get away with never going grocery shopping. He was usually on the road and ate whatever was available at the time, like all the other agents he worked with. 

But now that he was back in New York, it was harder for him to ignore the issue. Malcolm knew his mothers weekly invitations to brunch or dinner were, at least partially, a way to gauge how he was eating. Gil was starting to invite Malcolm to eat lunch with him in his office, which just made him feel like a stubborn child. 

His hand finally stopped shaking enough that he could bring the coffee to his lips. He’d figure something out eventually. For now, he had a case to distract himself from the ache in his stomach.

\-------------------------------

“Kid, come here.” 

Gil gestured to Malcolm to follow him into his office. He knew he wasn’t getting out of it, so he obeyed, his face betraying anxiety. It only got worse when Gil motioned for him to sit down as he took his seat behind the desk, like a principle about to have a stern discussion with a tardy student. 

Malcolm started speaking before he even sat in the chair. “Gil, I know what you’re going to say-”

“Then why don’t you spare me the trouble.” Gil reached into his desk and pulled out a granola bar, pushing it over to Malcolm. The younger man squirmed in his seat. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“Bright, I know eating is hard for you sometimes, but I can’t have you passing out on my watch.” Gil tried to keep his tone light, but he was concerned. “Have a bite at least. I got the special whole grain brand you like and everything.” 

Malcolm sighed, sparing a quick glance at his watch. It was still early enough for breakfast, but maybe if he just ate something now, Gil wouldn’t get on his back about lunch. And any amount of food would help with the light headedness. So Malcolm unwrapped the granola bar, broke off a small piece, and put it in his mouth. He made a big show of finishing up the first quarter of the granola bar as Gil watched. “Happy?” 

Gil smiled. “Yeah, kid I am. And proud.” 

Malcolm's eyes lit up at the praise but he tried to hide it. He was a grown man, but any kind of affection or validation from Gil still felt as warm as it did when he was a child. “I’m going to get back to work on the profile.” 

“Finish your granola first,” Gil called, as Malcolm took his leave. 

By the time Malcolm got to his desk, his smile had dropped. Looking around to make sure no one was paying attention, he moved a stack of crumpled up papers from the top of his wastebasket before depositing the still mostly complete granola bar in the can, along with all the other half eaten ones Gil had given him over the week. 

Now he just had to get through lunch.

\-------------------------------

Malcolm didn’t make it to lunch. 

He was sitting at the conference room with Dani, JT, and Gil when his stomach started cramping up. The pain he felt must have been palpable, because Gil stopped in the middle of his report breakdown to look over at Malcolm. “You okay, Bright?” 

Malcolm wasn’t okay, and anyone looking at him could tell. It had creeped up on him so quickly, he hadn’t even noticed what a state he was in till he started showing it. He was dizzy, sweating, and his right hand was shaking violently. His heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest and despite the cranked AC, he was sweating through his shirt. Add that to the wave of anxiety washing over him, and Malcolm knew something was very wrong.

“No.” Malcolm couldn’t believe he was admitting it, but it was only because he was rushing to stand up. Of course, this movement just made his head spin more than it already was. He clutched the edge of the table for balance, leaning forward to try and get a deep breath in. Dani moved closer to try and steady him, but Malcolm just shot up and out of her reach. 

“I’m fine!” He exclaimed. “Just give me a second.” Before Gil could stop him, Malcolm was running out the door, to the bathroom at the other end of the precinct. It was mercifully empty, allowing Malcolm to rush into the first stall. He quickly opened the lid of the toilet, only to kneel over and begin vomiting. Well, it was mostly dry heaving, after the coffee and granola came out. 

Malcolm panted, trying to get the last bit of stomach bile out of his throat. If he felt light headed before, he was now minutes from collapsing. Part of him just wanted to slide down on the ground of the stall and pass out. But he didn’t need Gil or, god forbid, JT,breaking down the stall door when they realized he wasn’t coming back out.  
Slowly, he forced himself to stand, finding it awkward to get his footing in the small space. Malcolm took a few deep breaths to try and steady himself, before flushing the toilet and exiting the stall, praying no one else had come into the bathroom.

Luckily, it was still empty and he was able to make it over to the sink without wobbling too much. As he washed his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror; it was if he had lost ten pounds in the past hour. His face was gaunt and the ever present bags under his eyes stood out even more. His hand had begun to shake again, so Malcolm balled it up and stretched it, trying to release the tension. Finally, he splashed some water on his face to hopefully help with the dizziness and made his way out of the bathroom.

JT, Dani, and Gil were all waiting in the hallway, as Malcolm expected. He noticed some of the other officers staring, but they were quick to go back to their work when they saw he was paying attention. 

“Whoa guys, no need to crowd me.” Malcolm held up his hands, gesturing for everyone to step back. The trio obliged, but none of them dropped the concerned expressions on their face. 

“Kid, do you need to go home?” Gil’s voice was sympathetic, but it felt more like an order than a question. “I’m sure your mother wouldn’t mind sending Adolpho to come get you-”

“I’m fine.” Malcolm insisted. “Just something I ate.” 

JT chucked. “Since when do you eat?” 

Malcolm tried to smirk, but it probably looked more like a grimace. He was swaying on his feet and could feel the sweat dripping down his skin underneath the layers he wore. “Can we get back to the case, please?” 

“As long as you’re sitting down.” Gil cupped his hand behind Malcolm’s neck and nudged him forward. Malcolm was grateful to have a steadying force, because his knees were about to buckle. “But don’t scare us again.” 

“Will do,” Malcolm replied, doing his best to smile, despite how awful he felt.

The group had made it halfway to the conference room before Malcolm stopped abruptly. The fog in his head was getting worse and he stumbled backwards. If it weren’t for Gil, he would have fallen over.

“Bright, seriously, what’s wrong?” Dani rushed over to Malcolm, helping Gil steady him. 

Malcolm winced at the pounding in his head. “It’s fine, just a migraine.” 

Malcolm sidestepped Gil and Dani, hoping to find his balance on his own. They were just crowding him at this point. 

Unfortunately, Malcolm overestimated how well he could hold himself up. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, stars dancing across his eyes, before everything went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I have barely started chapter two so we shall see how much I procrastinate...


End file.
